Goodbye Lass

The falling notes rose,
My spirits,
A jig of Irish tunes,
Danced
And I walked on down the road.
I told my lass
That I must leave.
Ireland was a callin’
And I couldn’t wait no more
So I walked on down the road
while the Germans shouted
and the French wept
and the Italians ate
and drank to my health
The grass rose before me
and the wind dwindled
and the moss papered the rocks
and the trees cheered
and the sky wept
on my route
down the road.

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pETEthePoet

coffee & a laptop, what other superpowers do you need?

Peter N. Liptak

Of the poems you will see here, some are new and some are old, some are hesitant and some bold, some even snuck up on me and took me by surprise, so treat them well with a good read and a thought or two, then leave them with a pat on the head. They deserve it, don’t you?